


Track 4 – Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Green Day)

by REwrites



Series: Play It Again [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REwrites/pseuds/REwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some dark part of his heart always knew he would go this alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Track 4 – Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Green Day)

**I walk this empty street**   
**On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams**   
**When the city sleeps**   
**And I'm the only one and I walk alone**

It would be so easy, he thought, staring at the speeding vehicles traveling through the dreary streets as he waited for the light to change telling him it was okay to cross. He could throw himself in front of a speeding double-decker and it would all be over. Maybe the Muggles on board would snap some interesting photos and have something to share with their families or friends when they returned home. Remus Lupin's final contribution to the world.

"You'll never believe it! Skinny little bloke just ran right in front! Squashed like a bug he was!"

But no. He may have lost a lot of things that night, but the will to live was not one of them. Try as he might—and he'd done damn good job of it, truth be told—Sirius had not been able to destroy him completely. Though it certainly felt that way, and often.

Sometimes it felt as though he were the one who was dead. That he was a scared and lonely ghost drifting amongst the living and if he took a visit to Godric's Hollow, he'd see a small, messy-haired little boy swinging on the arms of his mother and father instead of the cold slabs of stone etched permanently with the reminder of everything he'd lost. That there would be the sounds of laughter in the corner of the pub they frequented, the harsh realities of war never dampening their spirits so long as they had each other. That he would come home to a warm bed where strong, sure hands would make him feel loved, cherished, and a soothing voice would tell him it was just a terrible nightmare.

But if it was a nightmare it was unending. Harry was living with relatives Remus was sure hated him, or at least had hated his parents, the carving of MWPP Sirius had etched into their favorite table would probably grow grimy and distorted until the letters were lost over time, and the comforting arms he'd grown so used to would never hold him, never make him feel safe again. He would be perpetually caught between waking and sleep, broken memories of the life he use to have slipping through his fingers like the remnants of a sweet dream.

He had to admit it was getting better—or easier, at any rate. He thought less and less of throwing himself into speeding traffic and managed to get back to a crude imitation of the life he'd been trying for. Some dark part of his heart always knew he would go this alone. Though he desperately wanted to believe in the promises of always and forever whispered in the night, their bodies damp and still entwined impossibly close, Remus knew that was never likely to happen. War had away of forcing young dreamers to face facts, and Remus had never been much of a dreamer anyhow. He left the fanciful musing to Sirius while he prepared himself for the reality of losing the people and things he cared about most.

Nothing could have prepared him for this though. For the fell swoop of fate that would take absolutely everything that mattered from him in one night. In hindsight, he realized the warnings were there; if he'd thought to look close enough. Sirius had been so on edge the days leading up to James and Lily's death. Had begun shying away from his touch (I'm just tired, Moony), came home late and exhausted and shaking, had become irrationally protective and jealous.

"I've told you twice now! I was at a stakeout with Frank!"

"Oh, yes, with  _Frank_."

Remus squirmed but did well not to show it. It was a lie. He hated lying to Sirius, but Sirius would not believe that he'd been on a reconnaissance with a Death Eater spy for the Order, least of all Severus Snape. That and Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy. Snape's role was precarious and Remus would not jeopardize his position because Sirius was having a hissy.

"What have you got against Frank?"

"Oh, it's just, he's not a bad-looking bloke, is he? Were you two getting comfortable on your  _stakeout_?" he'd asked, a wild gleam in his eyes.

"Are you joking? Frank is married! He has a kid! I'm not fucking him!"

"So you're saying you would except he's taken? Is that it?"

Remus had to refrain from hitting him. He took a deep breath and reached up, taking Sirius's head between his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"How could you even think that? I would never…it's you, don't you know that? It's only ever going to be you."

He watched as Sirius's face contorted from anger to something like anguish before he pressed their mouths together in a messy, desperate kiss. They stumbled to the bedroom, pulling at clothing as they went until they tripped onto the bed in a tangled jumble of limbs and clothes.

"Mine," Sirius growled into his ear as he thrust into him, planting kisses on his back and hair, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. "Say it…promise me!  _Please_. "

"Yours. Oh God, yours…always yours," Remus moaned his reply, grasping Sirius's hand tightly and reaching back to pull him closer.

Afterward, he could feel wet drops falling into his hair as Sirius held him close. "No matter what happens, I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course," Remus said and he was consumed by fervent kisses once more. Sirius was just scared. They both were. Their own lives were at risk every time they walked out the door, and sometimes even when they didn't. James and Lily and Harry were in danger, had nearly been killed the last time Voldemort got wind of where they were. Peter had been badly injured in the last raid. So many people were dying. They were terrified all the time it seemed like.

"I'm going to be going away for a while," Sirius had said after some time and Remus nodded, having expected it. There had been not-so-subtle hints of a Secret Keeper and Remus had no doubt James would ask Sirius. He whispered words of love and caution back and that was the last time he saw Sirius until he'd picked up the Prophet not two days later and his world had ended.

He'd laughed loudly when that memory surfaced as he walked to the dingy pub where he'd secured employment tending the bar and washing the occasional dish. An elderly woman clutched her handbag tightly, perhaps preparing to strike him with it if he got too close, as he stopped mid-stride and laughed madly. "Yes, Sirius, you did end up going away for a while, didn't you?" he'd said to no one as he resumed his trek, oblivious to the wetness on his eyes and cheeks.

He ignored the ache in his chest and focused instead on the one in his bones, promising a brutal full moon night in three days time. Surprisingly, he'd almost begun looking forward to full moons. Even with the prospect of romping around the Forbidden Forest with his pack-mates, Remus could never say he looked forward to a full moon night until six months ago when he'd been so numb with grief the transformation shocked him back to reality. The pain of his body breaking and reforming itself was almost a relief, a blessing. It reminded him he was still alive and that there was still a heart beating in his chest, ready and waiting for the next Sirius Black to come along and rip it to shreds.

Not that he ever expected to love again, at least not as deeply as before anyway. There would be other men, he was sure, even if, currently, he was more alone than he'd ever been his entire life. On good days, the small spark of hope that refused to die, despite life's brutal attempts at snuffing out all light, would burn away some of the decay on his still tender heart and he would dare to dream that he would find someone who would make him forget Sirius Black. Or that someone would find him—would hear the plea he sobbed into his pillow on the bad days and take him away from his misery.

He shuffled home after his shift, tugging his threadbare coat tighter around him as the cold began seeping into his bones. The streets were emptier this late; fewer potential candidates for a merciful death trundling down the streets. He kicked a discarded wad of paper as he waited for the light, looking up at the moon, nearly full. He nearly smiled at the familiar sight of it.

"At least I have you, old friend," he muttered to the white ball of light hanging high above the buildings, more than a little bitter, trying to ignore the random wondering if Sirius could see the moon from his cell. If he even recognized the significance it once held for them both. "I'll always have you, won't I?" he asked it. He received no answer, of course, but he didn't need one. Unlike the ill-placed faith he'd put in others, he could always count on the God-forsaken moon to be with him. It was comforting, in a strange way.

Not so alone after all, he thought as he continued on his way, the last friend in the world he had left seeing him safely home.


End file.
